Best of Intentions, Chapter 10

Ben pulls his car into the parking area adjacent to Rudy's, a popular take-out restaurant right on the rocky shore of Lake Ontario, a short distance west of Oswego.  

Ben tells Rita that, "Their hot dogs are better than at Yankee Stadium."  He orders four of them plus two beers to go.  Ben and Rita carry their food and drinks past the picnic tables where many Rudy's customers are enjoying themselves.  They continue further down the beach until they are alone and can enjoy the beautiful view of the lake while eating and drinking.

After a while, Ben stares out at the seemingly endless body of water.  Finally, he starts talking.

"I want to tell you something, Rita, something I haven't talked about with anyone."

"You can tell me anything, Ben."

"I want to tell you about my son...my son, Frank."

Rita is very surprised, never having heard about a child. She stays quiet, mesmerized.

"It really starts with my wife...my ex-wife, Paula.  We were childhood sweethearts, grew up in the same neighborhood, fell in love in college and married after graduation.  We didn't have a child right away.  But, when Frank was born, we adored him.  He was a good boy.  He loved his mom, but he and I were special.  He wanted to be just like me.  I didn't push it...it was just the way he was.  He loved baseball like me.  Captain of his high school team...and he followed the Yankees, too.  We listened to their games on the radio and once every year we'd go see them in New York City."

Tears start to well-up in Ben's eyes.  Rita puts her arm around his shoulder.

"I had two passions in my life, baseball and hunting.  I got hunting from my father.  It brought us closer together.  He taught me everything.  We used to go after small game, like pheasants and rabbits mostly.  And he taught me how to be safe.  Frank wanted to hunt as well.  I didn't let him touch a gun until I thought he was old enough.  The first lesson was safety.  He was a good learner.  It was great walking through woods...spending time...just the two of us."

"Then one day, after Thanksgiving, when Frank was seventeen, I was down with a bad cold.  We were to go hunting with his best friend, Andy, and his father, Doc.  Frank had never gone hunting without me.  Paula was always nervous about hunting, but felt I would protect him.  She didn't want him to go that day, but he begged me, and I told her it'd be OK.  He was an experienced hunter and Doc could look out for the two boys.  Frank said, 'Thanks, Dad.  I love you.'  He was out the door and I never saw him again."

Ben's voice cracks.  Tears pour out of his eyes.  Rita puts both her arms around him.

"They were deep in the woods, close to a pheasant.  Frank was in the lead with his 12-gauge shotgun.  He turned his head back as far as he could to his left to get Andy's attention and signal with his hand.  He took a step forward, slipped on some ice and fell.  The gun went off and killed him instantly."

"I'm so sorry," said Rita, crying as well.

"Later, Doc called.  He said it real quick.  There had been an accident.  Frank was dead.  I went numb.  I hung up the phone and looked for Paula.  She was right there behind me.  I repeated what Doc said. There had been an accident.  Frank was dead.  She fell to the floor screaming for her son...her face distorted in agony."

"I tried to comfort her, but I was in great pain myself.  It was almost impossible to cope with Frank's loss.  After the funeral, my wife and I mourned, but it was different for each of us.  I tried to understand why such a great boy had to die.  But, Paula wanted to blame somebody, to focus her anger somewhere, on whomever was responsible and I was convenient.  I had encouraged his interest in hunting.  I taught him to hunt.  I taught him about gun safety, but I failed him.  When he needed me most, that day, I wasn't there.  It wasn't fair for her to blame me, but she did and it ate away our relationship.  I started pulling away from her until there was nothing left.  She said when she looked at me, she saw Frank and she couldn't bear it anymore.  She filed for divorce and I didn't fight it."

"You see, Rita, in one split second, I lost the two most important people in my life.  I was alone."

"You're not alone anymore, Ben.  I love you."

She leans over and kisses him on his lips.  

Then, she adds, "I want to make love to you, Ben...right now.  What are those buildings across the road?" 

Stunned, Ben replies, "Sunshine Cabins.  They rent them to tourists, by the day or the week."

"Let's spend the night there, Ben.  I love you very much." 

"I love you, too, Rita."

The two stand up and cross the road, holding each other close.



    

Twenty Years

New Year's Day, 1997, brought me a sense of relief.  I had just gone through a bad year, health-wise.  In the beginning of 1996, I suffered my second colitis attack (last since then) which I had to fight off with prednisone, a dangerous drug.  At one point, I lost more than ten kilos (22 pounds), partly because I completely lost my appetite.  I remember looking at a bowl full of chocolate pudding without being able to lift a spoon.  However, by the end of 1996 I felt the worst was over. With the prednisone, I got the 10 kilos back and more so.  

Three months later, in April of 1997, something else happened to me.  I started noticing wavy horizontal lines in the upper portion of the vision in my left eye.  As days went by, the lines extended downward until they completely covered what I saw out of my left eye.  I could make out only images, but nothing in detail.  I had lost about 90% of the vision from my left eye.  

My eye doctor recommended a specialist.  After examining my left eye, the specialist said three words I'll never forget: "ischemic optic neuropathy."  He also told me there was nothing that could be done to restore the vision.  I would face the rest of my life with only one good eye.  What a frightening occurrence!  

From the lowvision.org website, I found the following: "Ischemic optic neuropathy is a potentially visually devastating disease that occurs in the middle aged and the elderly.  This condition is often referred to as stroke of the optic nerve, and it usually begins suddenly with little warning in one eye, but frequently progresses to the other eye over time."

What could I do to protect my right eye?  The specialist recommended taking 81 mg. aspirin, a blood thinner, to cut down the risk of going completely blind.  With the aspirin and some good fortune, the vision in my right eye has survived since April of 1997, twenty years.  

However, with only one eye, I have had to adapt a little.  My biggest problem is my left peripheral vision.  If someone or something comes up behind me on my left side, I cannot see them or it until they are almost in front of me.  When we are walking on the street, I always tell my wife, Cristina, to stay to my right.  I have to be especially careful when I am driving.  By the way, in New York, North Carolina, and Brazil, you need only one good eye to get a driver's license.  

In spite of the fright when I received the news from the eye specialist, I have discovered that one good eye is enough to live a full life.  I can read books and newspapers, watch TV at home and movies in the cinema, walk inside and outside the house, drive a car (when I am in the USA), etc.  In other words, I can do everything I did with two eyes now with only one eye.  I do take the precaution to wear non-breakable glasses.  I don't want anything to happen to my right eye. It's got to last me a long time.  

     


           

The Seven Year Itch

"The seven-year itch is a psychological term that suggests that happiness in a relationship declines after around year seven of a marriage."  In 1955, Billy Wilder (see blog posts for Sunset Boulevard and Shut Up And Deal) wrote, produced and directed the film, The Seven Year Itch, which starred Tom Ewell and Marilyn Monroe.

In the film, Richard (Ewell) is a "nerdy, faithful, middle-aged publishing executive" whose wife (of seven years) and young son are spending the summer in Maine.  After seeing his family off at the train station, he returns alone to his Manhattan apartment, where he meets his beautiful new neighbor (Monroe), who is subletting the upstairs apartment while temporarily in town to do some TV spots for a toothpaste commercial.  Richard invites her to his apartment for a friendly drink, hoping she is attracted to him, but her interest is only in his air conditioner.    

Over the next few days, Richard and his neighbor spend more time together and he feels he is succumbing to the seven year itch that he read about in a psychology book.  Eventually, fearing his wife is having her own seven year itch, Richard tells the neighbor she can stay in his air conditioned apartment as he will spend the rest of the summer in Maine.  

There is an iconic scene in the film when Richard and his neighbor come out of a movie theater after watching the classic 1954 science fiction film, The Creature from the Black Lagoon. As did I, she feels sorry for the creature.  Monroe then "stands over the subway grate to experience the breeze...in the pleated white halter dress, blowing her skirt in the wind."

Marilyn Monroe, or Norma Jean Baker, was born in Los Angeles on June 1, 1926. She "spent most of her childhood in foster homes and an orphanage."  At eighteen, Monroe started doing modeling for pin-up photos which led to her signing a movie contract.   In 1950, she had small parts in two critically acclaimed films, The Asphalt Jungle, with Sterling Hayden, and All About Eve, with Bette Davis.         

These parts eventually led to starring roles in Don't Bother to Knock (1952) with Richard Widmark, Niagara (1953) with Joseph Cotton, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) with Jane Russell, and River of No Return (1954) with Robert Mitchum.  As Burt Lancaster served as an image of masculinity (see blog post for Elmer Gantry), Marilyn Monroe became the iconic image of femininity. 

After The Seven Year Itch, she starred in Bus Stop (1956) with Don Murray, Some Like It Hot (1959 - another Billy Wilder production) with Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis, and The Misfits (1961) with Montgomery Clift and Clark Gable.

Sadly, Marilyn Monroe died on August 5, 1962, at the age of 36, as a result of "acute barbiturate poisoning."  Was it suicide (official report) or perhaps murder (conspiracy theory)?  I remember listening to radio reports of her death with my brother Ted, who was a big fan of hers.  I mentioned above that, during her movie career, she was an iconic image of femininity. More than fifty years later, Marilyn Monroe is still an iconic image of femininity and may well be forever.
_________
I will be on vacation next Sunday.  Next post will be Sunday, April 23. 

           

Third Term

George Washington, the first president of the United States of America, ended his tenure after two terms in office (1789-1797). The next president to face the possibility of a third term was Thomas Jefferson (1801-1809).  In declining the opportunity, he stated on January 10, 1808 that, "If some termination to the services of the Chief magistrate, be not fixed by the constitution, or supplied by practice, his office, nominally for years, will in fact become for life, and history shows how easily that degenerates into an inheritance."  What say you?  

Following the examples of Washington and Jefferson, Presidents James Madison (1809-1817), James Monroe (1817-1825), and Andrew Jackson (1829-1837) ended their presidencies after two terms.

Ulysses S. Grant served two terms as president from 1869 to 1877. Despite the precedent set by five previous presidents, he sought a third term.  However, his party, the Republican Party, turned against Grant and to his successor, President Rutherford B. Hayes.

Grover Cleveland served two terms as president from 1885 to 1889 and from 1893 to 1897.  He also sought a third term but his candidacy was rejected by his party, the Democratic Party.  

After President William McKinley was assassinated in 1901, Theodore Roosevelt (TR) served almost two complete terms as president until 1909.  He willingly retired from office at the end of his second term. However, in 1912, dissatisfied with his successor, President William Taft, a fellow-Republican, TR ran for a third term as a third-party candidate, but lost.

Woodrow Wilson, who defeated both Roosevelt and Taft in the 1912 election, served two terms as president from 1913 to 1921. He wanted to run again for a third term in 1920, but his party, the Democratic Party, turned him down.

When President Warren Harding died suddenly in 1923, Calvin Coolidge became president.  He was re-elected in 1924 and served until March of 1929.  Coolidge declined the opportunity to seek a third term.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR) shattered the two term precedent when he was successfully elected four times: 1932, 1936, 1940, and 1944. He served in office from March of 1933 until his death in April of 1945, shortly after the beginning of his fourth term.  The fact that the world was at war in 1940 and America was in a war in 1944 helped FDR convince the American people he was still needed in the White House.  

In the 1944 presidential campaign, the Republican candidate, New York Governor, Thomas Dewey, announced his support for a Constitutional amendment that would limit future presidents to two terms.  He stated that, "four terms, or sixteen years, is the most dangerous threat to our freedom ever proposed."  Really?  

In March of 1947, the Republican controlled U.S. Congress, embittered by their failures to defeat FDR, passed a joint resolution calling for a two term limit Constitutional amendment. On February 27, 1951, Minnesota became the 36th state to ratify the 22nd Amendment, satisfying the required 75% threshold.  It took effect beginning with the first president elected after the then president, Harry Truman (1945-1953).  He considered running for a third term in 1952, but abandoned the idea after losing in the Democratic Party's New Hampshire primary.

Under the Brazilian Constitution, a president can have more than two terms, but not three consecutive terms.

I believe in democracy.  To me that includes the right of the people to choose their president.  The Founding Fathers who wrote the Constitution reasonably limited the requirement to be president to a "natural born citizen" of at least 35 years-of-age. However, the Founding Fathers did not include a term limit.  There are no term limits for Senators, Representatives, nor other federal office holders.  We do not approve when Iranian religious leaders disqualify candidates for their country's presidency nor when the People's Republic of China disqualifies candidates for office in Hong Kong.  Yet, by law some very qualified candidates are disqualified to be president of the USA.  Are we hypocrites?  

As President Theodore Roosevelt stated in his autobiography, "The American people have wisely established a custom against allowing any man to hold (the presidency) for more than two consecutive terms...but...it would be very unwise to have it definitely hardened into a Constitutional prohibition.  Most certainly the American people are fit to take care of themselves, and stand in no need of an irrevocable self-denying ordinance. They should not bind themselves never to take action which under some quite conceivable circumstance it might be to their interest to take.  In time of great peril (the American people) should be able to command the service of every one among its citizens in the precise position where the service rendered will be most valuable.  It would be a benighted policy in such event to disqualify absolutely from the highest office a man who...had actually shown the highest capacity to exercise its powers with the utmost effect of the public defense." I agree with TR.  What say you?
    

Five men, Dwight Eisenhower (1953-1961), Ronald Reagan (1981-1989), Bill Clinton (1993-2001), George W. Bush (2001-2009), and Barack Obama (2009-2017), were limited to two terms in office as a result of the 22nd Amendment to the Constitution.  It is my opinion that all of them, with the exception of Bush, would have been re-elected had they been willing and legally able to run for a third term.  What say you?

It is ironic that the first two presidents who were affected by the Republican-driven 22nd Amendment were Republicans.  It is also interesting to contemplate that, without the 22nd Amendment, nothing very important would have happened on November 22, 1963 in Dallas, Texas.                             

        

Best of Intentions, Chapter 9

In July of 1940, Ben travels from Oswego to the New York Municipal Airport to greet Rita and her cousin, Maria, who is on her first visit to the Big Apple.  He carries flowers for both women. Ben and Rita embrace.  

"It's been a long time, Rita." 

"I missed you, Ben.  I'd like you to meet my cousin, Maria."

"A pleasure, Maria.  Welcome to New York."

The next couple of days are a whirlwind of activities, including trips to the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park, Yankee Stadium, and the Opera House.  Before retiring for bed at their hotel on the third night, Rita and Maria have a heart to heart.

"Tomorrow, Ben and I are going to Oswego to have some time alone.  There we can find out about each other." 

"Are you sure you know what you are doing?"

"I know what I am doing.  But, you must never let Miguel know about this."

"I love you, Rita, and I trust you.  Ben is a kind man and I want you to be a happy woman, which you haven't been for many years. When your husband died, a bit of you died as well.  It seems with Ben you have been reborn."

"Ben makes me want to live again, not just go through the motions.  A couple of days in Oswego will tell me what I need to know."

"Go with God, Rita."  They embrace.

Early the following morning, Rita and Ben enter Grand Central Station and board a train for Oswego.  A number of hours later they arrive at the train station on West Utica Street, near the high school.  Ben walks Rita to his car parked in the station's lot.  They drive across the Utica Street Bridge (over the Oswego River) and turn left at East Third Street.  When they reach East Oneida Street, Ben parks the car in front of his modest white house on the corner.  Before entering, Maria and Ben cross the street to pray at the Catholic church in the East Side Park.

Ben gives Rita a quick tour of his house.  On the main floor is a living room, dining room and kitchen.  They climb the stairs to the second floor where Ben's bedroom is.  

After having seen the house, Rita says, "It's nice and cozy."

"You mean it's a dump."

"No.  I like it."

"My ex-wife, Paula, gets all the credit.  She decorated the house. After the divorce, she didn't want to live here anymore, so I got everything and I've changed nothing."

Rita notices the closed door of a room on the second floor overlooking the street.

"What room is that?"

"Nobody's," says Ben, suddenly solemn.  Then, quickly recovering, he asks, "Are you hungry?"

"Sure."

"I know the perfect place.  Let's go."

Back in his car, they drive down East Oneida Street past the public library.  Ben turns right on East First Street and then left on East Bridge Street.  Passing over a second bridge over the same river, Rita gets a good view of Lake Ontario to her right.  After traveling along several blocks of the commercial district on the west side of town, Ben turns right so Rita can see the park located nearby. There, he drives past, without noticing, Paula who is walking her beagle. However, his ex-wife notices Ben with an unknown woman by his side.  Her eyes follow the car until it disappears from her view.      

  

Ides of March

My first experience with a foreign language was my mother's mother tongue, Yiddish.  As her parents were immigrants whose language was Yiddish, that was the language they taught her when she was a child growing up in their house.  English would come later, especially at public school.  

When I was growing up in my mother's house, I heard a smattering of Yiddish, especially when my parents wanted to communicate in front of us children without our understanding. The word I especially remember is "kleyner," which means "little one," which was how my mother often referred to me when I was young.  The culture of the period when my mother raised her children discouraged speaking a foreign language, a sign of not being 100% American.  So, my mother didn't pass Yiddish on to the next generation. What a pity!

As a Jewish child, I was sent to Hebrew School to learn about our family's religion.  There I was taught Hebrew, but only how to read and speak the words in the prayers.  "Barukh attah Adonai."  I remember asking my teacher what the Hebrew words meant in English.  He said it was not important for us to understand what the words meant, but God would.  Bad answer!

In 1959, I entered the ninth grade at Kingsford Park School and was required to take first year Latin.  It was exciting to finally learn a foreign language.  "Agricolae amat puella."  The following year at Oswego High School, I was offered the choice of taking second year Latin or first year French.  Being a lazy student, I opted for the former hoping I could get away with only two years of a foreign language, the minimum requirement for most colleges. However, my mother noted they preferred a third year.  She and I had a big fight about this and of course I lost.  I had to take third year Latin as well.

My Latin teacher at OHS was Mrs. (Ruth) Young.  As she was the youngest and prettiest of my teachers, I probably had a small crush on her.  Our first year together we got along great.  I was one of the best students in her class.  Besides learning the Latin language, we studied Roman culture and history.  I remember that in the Roman calendar, the fifteenth of each month was referred to as the "Ides." This past Wednesday was the Ides of March.  In 44 B.C., Roman Emperor Julius Caesar was assassinated on the Ides of March.  In William Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar, the soothsayer warned him, "Beware of the Ides of March."

In my second year with Mrs. Young (third year Latin), as a sign of a silent protest, I basically studied just enough to pass. She noticed a difference in my attitude.  One day after class, Mrs. Young confronted me.  She asked how I was doing in my other classes.  I responded that I was an A student in Intermediate Algebra, Physics, and American History, with a B in English.  She asked why then was I barely getting a C in her class.  I said, "I don't know, Mrs. Young." But, I did.

With three years of Latin in high school, I was exempted from having to study a foreign language at Penn.  How unfortunate!  I remember one of my freshman roommates elected to take first year Russian.  Currently, at least one year of a foreign language is a requirement for a student at Penn's Wharton School.  

As a young adult, my ex-wife, Bonita, and I signed up for French classes at the Alliance Francaise in New York City.  We had a fantasy of living in France for a while.  My first course was great.  I learned how to say, "Paris est la capitale de la France."  The second course was more difficult.  The third was a horror as the teacher refused to accept questions in English nor respond in English.  I was lost and I quit.  

In 1998, I was browsing through a copy of the Village Voice, a newspaper I never read, neither before nor after that day.  I saw an advertisement for private Portuguese classes offered by a Brazilian teacher, Natalia Gedanke.  After a couple of business trips to Brazil, I had a curiosity about the Portuguese language.  There was no commitment beyond one lesson.  She came for that first class at my office.  It was great.  We continued for five years, eventually moving the weekly classes to her apartment on Pineapple Street in Brooklyn, near the Promenade.

So, here I am today, almost twenty years later, living in Sao Paulo, Brazil, speaking Portuguese with my wife, Cristina, her mother, Irene, and many other Brazilians.  "Bom dia.  Como vai?  Tudo bem?"  My fluency is getting better and better.  I think Mrs. Young would be proud of me.         

  

Michigan

Yesterday, Saturday, March 11, 2017, the University of Michigan Wolverines hosted the University of Pennsylvania Quakers in men's lacrosse at Michigan Stadium, otherwise known as "The Big House," in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  The home team won, 13 to 12. Over the years, the two schools have rarely competed in intercollegiate sports.  Yesterday was an exception.  However, back in the academic year 1962-1963, they competed in one of the most important competitions of my life.

The above academic year was my senior year at Oswego High School.  No longer needing to study either American History or Latin, my academic load was minimal.  That allowed me to concentrate on my college applications to Cornell, Harvard, Brown, Georgia Tech, Case Tech, Brandeis, Penn, and Michigan.  

I believe in visiting a college before applying to it.  That way, a student can get a sense about whether they would fit in or not.  I recall my brother Joel's first time at Dartmouth College was his arrival as a freshman in September of 1950 when I was only five years-old.

My parents were not believers in college visits.  Of the eight colleges I applied to, I had only visited two prior to sending out my applications. The first was Penn, my brother Paul's alma mater.  I especially remember Thanksgiving of 1958 when we attended the annual home game against Cornell, which the Big Red won, 19-7.

In the spring of 1962, my parents and I drove from Oswego to East Lansing, Michigan to visit my brother Ted who was a student there at Michigan State University.  I convinced my parents to pass through nearby Ann Arbor to check out the University of Michigan.  As I recall, we just drove through the campus.  The only stop we made was in front of Michigan Stadium, which I briefly entered.  I was impressed with what I saw of the university.

In the fall of 1962, after all my applications had been mailed, I received a thin yellow envelope, the return address of which was from the University of Michigan.  Later, I learned that thin envelopes were usually bad news, containing quick matter-of-fact rejection letters.  I received one from both Harvard and Brown. However, without any worry, I opened the above envelope which contained the excellent news that I had been accepted to the freshman class at the University of Michigan.  More information would be forthcoming in future larger envelopes.

As Michigan was the first of the eight to respond, I felt joy at having somewhere to go the following year when I would be a high school graduate and free of my mother's very strict rules.  I was going to Michigan.  I was going to be a Wolverine.  I was going to wear the maize and blue.  I would sing "Hail to the Victors."

However, the following March (1963), I received a second such envelope, this one a very thick white one from the University of Pennsylvania which announced my acceptance into its freshman class.  Penn had been my first choice.  Because of my brother Paul, I knew so much more about Penn than any of the other five that accepted me.  I also liked that it was located in a big city, Philadelphia, which appealed to me after my years in small town Oswego.  I wanted to experience how the other half lived.  Ann Arbor was a college town, with a population then of only about 67,000, a larger version of Oswego.  

Well, as everyone should know by now, I went to Penn and am happy I did.  I got a great education and am a proud alumnus.  

However, in the summer of 1967, after my Penn graduation, I moved to suburban Detroit, Michigan where my brother Ted was living.  As a result, I met my first wife, Bonita, who was then a senior at the University of Michigan.  During the time we dated, I spent a lot of time on the campus and in the city of Ann Arbor.  We went to a football game in September at the Big House, where Michigan defeated Duke University, a school I would become familiar with forty years later when I lived in central North Carolina.  The score was 10-7.

During Thanksgiving week of 1991, my family and I were visiting Bonita's relatives in suburban Detroit.  I convinced my teenage daughter, Rachel, it would be a good idea to take a tour of the nearby University of Michigan campus.  Unfortunately, it was a very cold day.  Every time, we moved outdoors, Rachel asked when we could go back inside.  I was convinced she would never go to Michigan.

However, the next September (1992), a friend invited Rachel to a football weekend at Michigan.  She loved it and applied to be a Wolverine.  She was accepted and matriculated there the following September of 1993.  

In November of 1993, Bonita, my son, Bret, and I traveled to Ann Arbor for Parent's Weekend.  Bret and I went to a football game at the Big House against Purdue, which Michigan won, 25-10.  In October of 1994, the three of us returned again to visit Rachel. Bret and I sat in the student section for the Michigan State game, which Michigan won, 40-20.  Unfortunately, all the students stood the whole game, which was bad for Bret and me.

In December of 1994, Penn's men's basketball team visited Crisler Arena in Ann Arbor to play Michigan.  Rachel was at the game, while Bret and I watched on TV from our home in New York. Penn won this time, 62-60.    

It was in Rachel's senior year that I got a chance to attend some classes at Michigan.  One was a lecture about the Vietnam War, which I recalled from my youth.  In a second class, in which both Rachel and I were present (but not sitting together), her professor discussed the civil rights struggle of the 1960s, which I also remembered vividly.  I was an active participant in that class.

In April of 1967, we returned to the Big House for Rachel's graduation.  I was a proud Michigan parent.  

I recently had a dream I was a student at Michigan where I met three of my old friends from Oswego.  Strange!

Perhaps the next generation of my family will return to study at the University of Michigan. That would be great.